At the Stroke of Seven
In the slow summer evenings, we wander and roam
to move around without a fixed destination : FOUND IN : Land of the Moon - GLOSSARY CARDS,
Until twilightthe period of the day between daylight and darkness, indicating transition, contemplation, or nostalgia claims its throne, and we surrender to our home.
At the stroke of ten, our bed cradles us in its embrace,
A sanctuarya place of refuge or safety, conveying peace, tranquility, or comfort of dreams, where tranquility finds a place.
As darkness descends, we seek solace in repose,
Tales on pages enchant, a TV softly glows.
Time slips through our fingers, minutes meltingwhen something softens or becomes liquid, conveying warmth, tenderness, or affection away,
Lost in stories and screens, as night transforms into day.
Heavy lids succumb, as midnight’s curtain draws near,
On twilight’s edge, dreams delicately appear.
In the realm of slumberto sleep peacefully and deeply, often indicating rest or rejuvenation, whispers softly weave,
Guiding us to a world, where reality takes its leave.
With the rising sun, our eyes gently part,
Awakening to a symphony, as morning imparts.
At the stroke of seven, the clock beckons and chimes,
Melodies of time, as the day begins its climb.